


Jim Gordon's Sweetest Mistake

by genmitsu



Category: Gotham (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Attempt at Humor, Bad Puns, Established Relationship, Fluff, I mean BAD, M/M, Misunderstandings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-29
Updated: 2019-07-29
Packaged: 2020-07-24 19:51:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,010
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20020090
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/genmitsu/pseuds/genmitsu
Summary: It's Oswald's birthday and Jim intends to make it the best birthday his boyfriend has ever had. But something goes wrong, of course...





	Jim Gordon's Sweetest Mistake

**Author's Note:**

> This idea was born from a thread with cake decoration fails that we discussed with [thekeyholder](https://archiveofourown.org/users/thekeyholder/pseuds/thekeyholder) ages ago. This is the result of those discussions XD
> 
> I intended to publish it on Oswald's actual birthday, July 26, but oh well... It's here now XD  
> Please forgive my silly attempts at being funny.

Jim was feeling pretty good about this day - he prepared well in advance. He made the call early in the morning, confirming everything, the signal was kind of patchy but he did confirm his order and its specifics. He was going to pick up the flowers on the way to the mansion, and the gift was stashed safely in his inner pocket. It was going to be the best, _he_ was going to be the best, and the happy smile he would get in return would be so rewarding - especially if it’s followed by a kiss and another, and maybe some more…

Instead, his phone rings and Jim lights up immediately seeing the contact’s name, and picks up eagerly - it’s just about time for his order to be delivered.

“Oswald,” he greets, feeling his lips stretch in a smile despite himself.

“Hello, James.”

Uh-oh. He’s in trouble. Oswald only calls him ‘James’ when he’s displeased with him and now it sounds particularly icy…

“Um, is everything alright?”

“I wonder. Are you by any means dyslexic, James? I never quite noticed.”

“Uh… what?” Jim is completely bewildered by this comment. “I didn’t…”

Oswald doesn’t let him finish.

“I suppose this appealed to you as a joke,” he cuts in. “This does seem like something you might find amusing. I just didn’t think,” Oswald’s voice rises slowly but inevitably, “that I was also a joke to you! That you would think this would be-- would be appreciated! Just for the record, James! I _do_ _not_ appreciate this mockery!!” he almost shouts and then he hangs up on him without letting Jim put in a word.

Jim sits at his desk, his ears slightly ringing and his cheeks flushed - he was expecting something nice, having prepared like that and intending to make Oswald happy - and instead he got yelled at. What’s wrong?!

Harvey grins at him from behind his desk. Of course he heard everything, with Oswald being so loud.

“Trouble in paradise, Jimbo?” he asks. “Made your little bird cry?”

“Enough with the bird jokes, Harv,” Jim sighs in exasperation. “It wasn’t funny then and it’s not funny now.”

“Oh come on, it has to be! You’re dating _Penguin_ , for fuck’s sake!” Harvey roars with laughter. “You should’ve braced yourself for this kind of shit.”

Jim just shakes his head at him.

“Okay, okay. What did you do this time?” Harvey even puts his newspaper down, clearly eager for some gossip. Jim is reluctant to give in, but… he really doesn’t have a clue to what could have offended Oswald so much.

“I just ordered him a birthday cake… The kind he likes, that mousse thing, with a little message on top.”

“Oh? What kind of message?” Harvey wiggles his eyebrows at him. “Did you write something dirty on that cake?”

“What? No!” Well, Jim thought about it - but things like that were better said in private, whispered in his love’s ear and accompanied by hot kisses and hands ghosting over the sensitive parts and… okay, this isn’t the time for thoughts like these. “It just says ‘congratulations, Oswald’.”

“Huh,” Harvey frowns. “That doesn’t sound too bad.”

“Right?” Jim runs his hand through his hair, resisting the urge to pull on it. “I get that I might have misjudged his preferences - but how could you get offended by a cake? Like, really?”

“Call him back, partner. What gives. You tried your best - no reason to give you this shit.”

“Yeah…”

And Jim calls Oswald’s number - he doesn’t want to yell back or anything, he just wants to know what the hell is so wrong - but Oswald doesn’t pick up.

“Ugh,” Harvey groans. “Okay, man, I can cover for you as you go and sort this out with your bird in person. But you’ll owe me.”

“No need,” Jim shakes his head ruefully. “He’s all over the city today on business, and even he didn’t know where he’d end up. It all depends on how his meetings go.” He sits at his desk, determined to at least continue his work. “I’ll just have to talk to him in the evening.”

It’s only when around an hour later a courier arrives with a parcel for James Gordon they get a clue. It’s the cake. The cake Jim ordered. Very nice and pretty, lemon mousse, raspberry filling inside, no doubt, and a smattering of fresh raspberries on top - everything like Jim ordered, and it should’ve pleased Oswald, if only a little… But the writing. God. The writing is so wrong.

“Is this some kind of European spelling or something, Jimbo?”

“It’s not,” Jim groans. No wonder Oswald didn’t appreciate it! The writing says _‘Congrations! You done it, Asphalt!’_ after all.

Harvey snickers. “He left you a little something,” he points to a little card attached to the box.

Jim takes it and lets out a nervous laugh. It’s Oswald’s handwriting and he wouldn’t have been surprised to get burned by the venom dripping from the small letters inside. It’s his angry handwriting, all sharp and scrawly, and reserved for notes to his misbehaving lieutenants, ones who appreciate the nuance and tremble in their boots receiving this, at the least.

It says _‘Nice try, Gym’_.

“His European roots are showing, partner,” Harvey tells him, looking forlorn as if being European was some kind of terminal disease, and Jim smacks him on his arm.

He really has trouble concentrating on his task after, and he calls the bakery where he ordered the cake - and the signal is still so patchy he can’t hear most of the words, so he grabs his keys and the unfortunate cake and drives there. It’s a posh bakery in the center of the city, and with prices like theirs they should have installed a reliable phone line or something! It’s impossible to fulfill orders this way, and there are bound to be all kinds of mistakes, but if they’re that negligent with their orders, perhaps Jim should put in a word with the FDA inspector or something - that’s what he tells the manager who comes to take his complaint and pales. He offers to get the cake redone, at no additional cost, of course, but Jim looks at the time and - it would be too late like that. But then he gets an idea.

He returns to the precinct in a much better mood, and even if he still can’t reach Oswald by phone, he’s certain they will get it sorted out in the evening. Yes, he did nothing wrong - Jim is ninety percent sure of it - but maybe he was careless or something, and after all, today is Oswald’s day. So Jim is prepared to grovel and beg and whatnot, to make this right.

Harvey wishes him luck with a solemn look of a mother saying farewell to her only son going away to fight in a war and Jim would’ve hit him, he would’ve, definitely, except his hands are full with cake and stuff so he only glares back at his partner which just makes Harvey guffaw.

Jim drives to pick up the flowers which are just fine, no surprises there, thank you, and sets on the course to the mansion. It’s funny, he’s been staying there more often than in his own flat, but he didn’t think of either place as a home. Home was Oswald, always, his bright eyes, his tender hands, his loving smile. Jim hopes against all hope that this weird misunderstanding won’t tear them apart. He misses Oswald too much, his heart always zeroed in on him, and sure, they might still be in their honeymoon stage or something, but Jim knows that what they have is real. He intends to keep it.

The mansion is quiet when he arrives, but the windows of the small lounge are lit up, so Oswald should be there. Jim hurries inside, and Oswald stands up when he walks into the room, takes him in - a box of cake, a bouquet of flowers - and he looks so sheepish and also tense and jittery, and this is no way to feel on your birthday.

“Jim,” he starts, but Jim just has to kiss him, erase all those bad thoughts and feelings from him with his touch, so he walks up to him and leans over the stuff he’s holding to press their lips together. The kiss is short, but it totally works and Oswald smiles shyly at him when they pull apart.

“Help me,” Jim pleads and holds the bouquet out for him. Oswald takes the flowers, inhales their scent and gives Jim a pleased look.

“You remembered,” he says softly.

“Of course I did,” Jim smiles. “I pay attention to details… kind of my job, you know?”

It was funny, really, how at first Jim always brought Oswald roses - well, they were classic, weren’t they? And Oswald accepted them, of course he did, and he looked pleased with them too. It was only when Jim heard him speaking about spring flowers and their meanings and whatnot that he realized he’s been a fool. Oswald loved those a lot more than roses, and the way his eyes lit up when Jim brought him hyacinths or daffodils was incomparable. But tulips were his favourite, and this bouquet was a nice arrangement of purple, yellow and white ones, so delicate and silky, and definitely, definitely to Oswald’s taste.

“I’m sorry about the cake,” Jim says as Oswald puts his tulips into a vase. “I made the order by phone and they misheard it. I didn’t mean to make you upset.” He puts the box on the table as well. “But I tried to make it better. Won’t you give it a look?”

Oswald glances at him curiously before taking the lid off the box and Jim waits, nervous again.

“ _‘Asphalt hurts you when you crash, and you’re my biggest crush’_ ,” Oswald reads the new text slowly and raises his eyes to meet Jim’s. “Oh my God, Jim. This is absolutely terrible,” and he grins and kisses his cheek. “I love it.”

“You do?” Jim winds his arms around Oswald’s waist, bringing him closer, trying to squeeze out the rest of the nervous tension from him, make him feel safe and good again.

“I’m sorry I overreacted,” Oswald says, leaning into Jim more. “I got teased a lot when I was little, about my name too… I’m afraid it hit a nerve.” He presses a kiss to Jim’s cheek again. “I should’ve known not to doubt you.”

“Aw, you know…” Jim feels awkward like that, and it’s so much easier to just keep on kissing Oswald, his mouth, his cheeks, his nose. Everything is right with them again, and it feels so good, kissing like that.

They pause for eating the dinner which Olga lovingly prepared for them before taking the rest of the day off. No one to disturb them here, no one to comment on anything they would do, and if Oswald wants to feed Jim pieces of the cake and kiss him, they don’t have to hold back.

“This is for thinking of me,” Oswald says after the first one and adds a peck to Jim’s lips. “This is for being so considerate,” he adds another. “This is for trying to make it better,” another peck of his lips, lingering. “This is because I love you,” and Jim can’t resist anymore, so he pulls Oswald into his lap to kiss him properly. His mouth tastes of raspberries, but it’s also so much sweeter, and this is also much better than cake, than food, maybe even better than oxygen.

Jim wishes his boyfriend a happy birthday as several plates get shaken off the table and shatter on the floor, followed by some cutlery that clinks on the shards. Jim wishes Oswald a happy birthday several times that night, but he gives him his present only when they move upstairs. Oswald thanks him quite enthusiastically, leaving him limp and breathless and begging for more.

No mistake. Jim really _was_ the best today.

**Author's Note:**

> I hope this made you smile :)
> 
> Feedback would be greatly cherished and appreciated~


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